SO THIS THEN IS YE 

fRIME? 



of ye 




WHEREIN 



Is told Whilom on a Day an Ancient Sea- 
Faring Man Detaineth a Wedding-Guest & 
Telleth him a Grewsome Tale. 



Written by MMVEL TAYLOk COLE- 
RIDGE 

For ye better Understanding of ye Gentle 
Reader, Various Pictures are here Inserted 
by one William W. Den flow 

%i Siref (gfctfton Corrected anfc 3mprot>efc 

Done into a Booke by ye merrie Roycrofters at ye ROY- 
CROFT SHOP, at ye Sign of ye Hippocampus, adja- 
cent to ye Deestrick Academy for ye Younge, which is in 
East Aurora, New York, United States of America. i8gg 



v v \ 



■Al 






Copyright 

i8 99 

by 

Egbert Hubbard 



TWO COPIES RECE1 1 

Library of Ccs e ?<5|M 
Register of Co; 











FIRbT copy, 



^ VJWAJ2. *V°j .JO, 



Of this edition there were print- 
ed but Nine Hundred and Ten 
copies and types were then dis- 
tributed. This book is No. (c If 






Various of ye pictures are 
did by hande by ye First 
Ladies of East Aurora at 
a Bee : where- ye Ladies 
were kindly supervised by 
ye Deacon Denslow. 



PART ONE 




w % 



s: 



v* - *^ 




YE RIME 

£ of ye 

"ANCIENT 
MARINER 



1 7 




PART I. 

T is an ancient Mar- 
iner, 
And he stoppeth 
one of three. 
" By thy long gray beard and 

glittering eye, 
Now wherefore stopp'st thou 
me ? 



An ancient 
Mariner 
meeteth 
three gal- 
lants bidden 
to a wedding 
feast, and 
detaineth 



1 8 Tie Rime of 

" The Bridegroom's doors are 

opened wide, 
And I am next of kin ; 
The guests are met, the feast is 

set; 
May'st hear the merry din." 



He holds him with his skinny 
hand ; 

" There was a ship," quoth he. 

" Hold off! unhand me, gray- 
beard loon ! 

Eftsoons his hand dropt he. 



The Wed- 
ding-Guest 
is spell- 
bound by 



He holds him with his glittering 



eye; 



The Ancient Mariner 



J 9 



The Wedding-Guest stood still, 
And listens like a three years' 

child; 
The Mariner hath his will. 



the eye of 
the old sea- 
faring man, 
and con- 
strained to 
hear his 
tale. 



The Wedding-Guest sat on a 
stone : 

He cannot choose but hear; 

And thus spake on that an- 
cient man, 

The bright-eyed Mariner : 

" The ship was cheered, the 

harbor cleared, 
Merrily did we drop 
Below the kirk, below the hill, 
Below the lighthouse top. 



The Mari- 
ner telleth 
how the 
ship sailed 
southward 
with a good 
wind and 
fair weath- 
er, till it 
reached the 
Line. 



20 



7%e Rime of 

" The sun came up upon the left, 

Out of the sea came he; 

And he shone bright, and on 

the right 
Went down into the sea. 



" Higher and higher every day, 
Till over the mast at noon — " 
The Wedding-Guest here beat 

his breast, 
For he heard the loud bassoon. 



The Wed- 
ding-Guest 
heareth the 
bridal 



The bride hath paced into the 

hall, 
Red as a rose is she; 



'The Ancienl Manner 



21 



Nodding their heads before her 

goes 
The merry minstrelsy. 

The Wedding-Guest here beat 

his breast, 
Yet he cannot choose but hear ; 
And thus spake on that ancient 

man, 
The bright-eyed Mariner : 



music ; but 
the Mariner 
continueth 
his tale. 



" And now the storm-blast came, 

and he 
Was tyrannous and strong : 
He struck with his o'ertaking 

wings, 
And chased us south along. 



The ship 
drawn by a 
storm to- 
ward the 
south pole. 



2 2 T%e Rime of 

" With sloping masts and dipping 

prow, 
As who pursued with yell & blow 
Still treads the shadow of his foe, 
And forward bends his head, 
The ship drove fast, loud roared 

the blast, 
And southward aye we fled. 

" And now there came both mist 
and snow, 

And it grew wondrous cold : 

And ice, mast-high, came float- 
ing by, 

As green as emerald. 



Tie Ancient Mariner 


23 


" And through the drifts the 


The land of 
ice, and of 


snowy clifts 


fearful sound 
where no 


Did send a dismal sheen : 


living being 
was to be 


Nor shapes of men nor beasts 


seen. 


we ken, — 




The ice was all between. 




" The ice was here, the ice was 




there, 




The ice was all around : 




It cracked and growled, and 




roared and howled, 




Like noises in a swound ! 




" At length did cross an Alba- 


Till a great 
sea-bird, 


tross; 


called the 
Albatross, 


Through the fog it came ; 


came 
through the 



2 4 



T%€ Rime^f 



snow-fog 
and was re- 
ceived with 
great joy 
and 
hospitality. 



As if it had been a Christian 

soul, 
We hailed it in God's name. 



And lo ! 
the Alba- 
tross prov- 
eth a bird 
of good 
omen, and 
followeth 
the ship as 
it returned 
northward 
through fog 
and floating 



" It ate the food it ne'er had eat, 

And round and round it flew. 

The ice did split with a thunder- 
fit; 

The helmsman steered us 
through ! 

" And a good south-wind sprung 

up behind ; 
The Albatross did follow, 
And every day, for food or play, 
Came to the mariners' hollo ! 



T&e Ancient Manner 



25 



" In mist or cloud, on mast or 
shroud, 

It perched for vespers nine ; 

Whiles all the night, through 
fog-smoke white, 

Glimmered the white moon- 
shine." 



" God save thee, ancient Mari- 
ner I 

From the fiends, that plague 
thee thus ! — 

Why look'st thou so ! " — " With 
my cross-bow 

I shot the Albatross ! " 



The ancient 
Mariner in- 
hospitably 
killeth the 
pious bird of 
good omen. 




^^ 



PART TWO 



To* Rime of The Ancient Manner 



29 




PART II. 




HE sun now rose 
upon the right : 
Out of the sea 
came he, 
Still hid in mist, and on the left 
Went down into the sea. 



And the good south-wind still 

blew behind, 
But no sweet bird did follow, 
Nor any day for food or play 
Came to the mariners' hollo ! 



3° 



His ship- 
mates cry 
out against 
the ancient 
Mariner, 
for killing 
the bird of 
good luck. 



T%€ Rime of 

And I had done a hellish thing, 
And it would work 'em woe : 
For all averred, I had killed the 

bird 
That made the breeze to blow. 
Ah, wretch! said they, the bird 

to slay, 
That made the breeze to blow ! 



But when 
the fog 
cleared off, 
they justify 
the same, 
and thus 
make them- 
selves ac- 
complices 

the 
crime. 



Nor dim nor red, like God's 

own head, 
The glorious sun uprist: 
Then all averred, I had killed 

the bird 
That brought the fog and mist. 



Tht Ancient Mariner 



3 1 



'T was right, said they, such 

birds to slay, 
That bring the fog and mist. 



The fair breeze blew, the white 

foam flew, 
The furrow followed free ; 
We were the first that ever burst 
Into that silent sea. 



The fair 
breeze con- 
tinues ; the 
ship enters 
the Pacific 
Ocean, and 
sails north- 
ward, even 
till it reach- 
ed the Line. 



Down dropt the breeze, the sails 

dropt down. 
'T was sad as sad could be : 
And we did speak only to break 
The silence of the sea ! 



The ship 
hath been 
suddenly 
becalmed. 



3 2 Tie Rime of 

All in a hot and copper sky, 
The bloody sun, at noon, 
Right up above the mast did 

stand, 
No bigger than the moon. 



Day after day, day after day, 
We stuck, nor breath nor mo- 
tion ; 
As idle as a painted ship 
Upon a painted ocean. 



And the 
Albatross 
begins to be 
avenged. 



Water, water, everywhere, 
And all the boards did shrink; 
Water, water, everywhere, 
Nor any drop to drink. 



*Tht Ancient Mariner 



33 



The very deep did rot: O Christ! 
That ever this should be ! 
Yea, slimy things did crawl with 
legs 



Upon the slimy sea. 



About, about, in reel and rout 
The death-fires danced at night; 
The water, like a witch's oils, 
Burnt green, and blue, and 
white. 

And some in dreams assured 

were 
Of the spirit that plagued us so; 



A Spirit had 
followed 
them ; one 
of the invis- 
ible inhab- 
itants of 
this planet, 
neither de- 
parted souls 
nor angels ; 
concerning 
whom the 
learned Jew, 
Josephus, 



34 



1%€ Rime of The Anuenl Mariner 



and the 
Platonic 
Constanti- 
nopolitan, 
Michael 
Psellus, 
may be con- 
sulted. 
They are 
very numer- 
ous, and 
there is no 
climate or 
element 
without one 
or more. 



The ship- 
mates, in 
their sore 
distress, 
would fain 
throw the 
whole guilt 
on the an- 
cient Mari- 
ner : in sign 
whereof 
they hang 
the dead 
sea-bird 
round his 
neck. 



Nine fathoms deep he had fol- 
lowed us 
From the land of mist and snow. 

And every tongue, through utter 

drought, 
Was withered at the root ; 
We could not speak, no more 

than if 
We had been choked with soot. 

Ah ! well-a-day ! what evil looks 
Had I from old and young ! 
Instead of the cross, the Alba- 
tross 
About my neck was hung. 



PART THREE 



Tie Rime of The Ancient Mariner 



39 





PART III. 



passed 



a 



weary time. 
Each throat 
Was parched, and 
glazed each eye. 
When looking westward, I 

beheld 
A something in the sky. 



The ancient 
Mariner 
beholdeth a 
sign in the 
element 
afar off. 



At first it seemed a little speck, 
And then it seemed a mist; 



4° T%e Rime of 

It moved and moved, and took 

at last 
A certain shape, I wist. 

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist ! 
And still it neared and neared : 
As if it dodged a water-sprite, 
It plunged and tacked and 
veered. 



At its near- 
er approach, 
it seemeth 
him to be a 
ship ; and 
at a dear 
ransom he 
freeth his 
speech from 
the bonds of 
thirst. 



With throats unslaked, with 

black lips baked, 
We could nor laugh nor wail ; 
Through utter drought all 

dumb we stood ! 
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 
And cried, A sail, A sail ! 



'The Ancient Manner 4 1 

With throats unslaked, with 

black lips baked, 
Agape they heard me call : 
Grammercy ! they for joy did 

g rin > 
And all at once their breath 

drew in, 

As they were drinking all. 



See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks 

no more ! 
Hither to work us weal, — 



She steadies with upright keel ! 

The western wave was all aflame, 
The day was wellnigh done ! 



A flash of 

j°y; 



And horror 
follows. 
For can it 
be a ship 
that comes 
onward 

Without a breeze, without a tide, wind or 



tide? 



4 2 Tie Rime of 

Almost upon the western wave 
Rested the broad bright sun ; 
When that strange shape drove 

suddenly 
Betwixt us and the sun. 



It seemeth 
him but the 
skeleton of 
a ship. 



And straight the sun was fleck- 
ed with bars, 

(Heaven's Mother send us 

grace !) 

As if through a dungeon-grate 
he peered 

With broad and burning face. 



Alas ! (thought I, and my heart 

beat loud) 
How fast she nears and nears ! 



T&e Ancienf Manner 



43 



Are those her sails that glance 

in the sun, 
Like restless gossameres ? 



Are those her ribs through which 

the sun 
Did peer, as through a grate ? 
And is that woman all her crew ? 
Is that a Death ? and are there 

two ? 
Is Death that Woman's mate ? 



And its ribs 
are seen as 
bars on the 
face of the 
setting sun. 
The Spec- 
tre Woman 
and her 
Death- 
mate, and 
no other on 
board the 
skeleton- 
ship. 



Her lips were red, her looks ^JrZl' 

were free, 
Her locks were yellow as gold : 
Her skin was as white as leprosy, 




44 



T^be Rime of 



The Nightmare Life-in- Death 

was she, 
Who thicks man's blood with 

cold. 



Death and 
Life-in- 
Death have 
diced for 
the ship's 
crew, and 
she (the 
latter) win- 
neth the 
ancient 
Mariner. 



No twilight 
within the 
courts of 
the sun. 



The naked hulk alongside came, 
And the twain were casting dice ? 
" The game is done ! I 've won ! 

I Ve won ! " 
Quoth she, and whistles thrice. 

The sun's rim dips; the stars 

rush out : 
At one stride comes the dark; 
With far-heard whisper, o'er the 

sea, 
Off shot the spectre-bark. 



The A neurit Manner 


45 


We listened and looked side- 


At the ris- 
ing of the 


ways up ! 


moon. 


Fear at my heart, as at a cup, 




My life-blood seemed to sip ! 




The stars were dim, and thick 




the night, 




The steersman's face by his lamp 




gleamed white ; 




From the sails the dew did 




drip, — 




Till clomb above the eastern bar 




The horned moon, with one 




bright star 




Within the nether tip. 




One after one, by the star- 


One after 


J 


another, 


dogged moon, 





4 6 



Tie Rime of 'The Ancient Manner 



His ship- 
mates drop 
down dead. 



But Life- 
in- Death 
begins her 
work on the 
ancient 
Mariner. 



Too quick for groan or sigh, 
Each turned his face with a 

ghastly pang, 
And cursed me with his eye. 

Four times fifty living men, 
(And I heard nor sigh nor 

groan !) 
With heavy thump, a lifeless 

lump, 
They dropped down one by one. 

The souls did from their bodies 

They fled to bliss or woe! 
And every soul, it passed me by, 
Like the whizz of my cross-bow ! 



PART FOUR 



ibe Rime of The Ancient Mariner 



5 1 




PART IV. 




FEAR thee, ancient 

Mariner ! 
I fear thy skinny 
hand ! 
And thou art long, and lank, 

and brown, 
As is the ribbed sea-sand. 



The Wed- 
ding-Guest 
feareth that 
a Spirit is 
talking to 
him. 



I fear thee & thy glittering eye, 
And thy skinny hand, so 
brown." — 



5 2 



But the an- 
cient Mari- 
ner assureth 
him of his 
bodily life, 
and pro- 
ceedeth to 
relate his 
horrible 
penance. 



The Rime of 

" Fear not, fear not, thou Wed- 
ding-Guest ! 
This body dropt not down. 

Alone, alone, all, all alone, 
Alone on a wide, wide sea ! 
And never a saint took pity on 
My soul in agony. 



He despiseth 
the creat- 
ures of the 
calm. 



The many men, so beautiful ! 
And they all dead did lie: 
And a thousand thousand slim 1 

things 
Lived on; and so did I. 



And envi- 
eth that 
they should 



I looked upon the rotting sea, 
And drew my eyes away ; 



The Ancient Mariner 5 3 

I looked upon the rotting deck, ^ d e sc 
And there the dead men lay. 

I looked to heaven, and tried 

' to pray ; 
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 
A wicked whisper came, and 

made 
My heart as dry as dust. 

I closed my lids, and kept them 

close, 
And the balls like pulses beat ; 
For the sky and the sea, and 

the sea and the sky 
Lay like a load on my weary 

eye, 
And the dead were at my feet. 



54 



But the 
curse liveth 
for him in 
the eye of 
the dead 
men. 



ibe Rime of 

The cold sweat melted from 
their limbs, 

Nor rot nor reek did they : 

The look with which they look- 
ed on me 

Had never passed away. 



An orphan's curse would drag 

to hell 
A spirit from on high ; 
But oh ! more horrible than that 
Is the curse in a dead man's eye ! 
Seven days, seven nights, I saw 

that curse, 
And yet I could not die. 



'The Ancient Manner 



55 



The moving Moon went up 

the sky, 
And nowhere did abide : 
Softly she was going up, 
And a star or two beside — 

Her beams bemocked the sul- 
try main, 

Like April hoar-frost spread ; 

But where the ship's huge shad- 
ow lay, 

The charmed water burnt alway 

A still and awful red. 

Beyond the shadow of the ship, 
I watched the water-snakes : 
They moved in tracks of shin- 
ing white, 



In his lone- 
liness and 
fixedness 
he yearneth 
towards the 
journeying 
Moon, and 
the stars 
that still so- 
journ, yet 
still move 
onward ; 
and every- 
where the 
blue sky be- 
longs to 
them, and 
is their ap- 
pointed rest, 
and their 
native 
country and 
their own 
natural 
homes, 
which they 
enter unan- 
nounced, as 
lords that 
are certainly 
expected, 
and yet 
there is a 
silent joy at 
their arrival. 



56 



ibe Rime of 



By the light 
of the moon 
he behold- 
eth God's 
creatures of 
the great 
calm. 



Their beau- 
ty and their 
happiness. 



And when they reared, the elf- 
ish light 
Fell off in hoary flakes. 

Within the shadow of the ship 
I watched their rich attire: 
Blue, glossy green, and velvet 

black, 
They coiled and swam ; and 

every track 
Was a flash of golden fire. 

O happy living things ! no ton- 
gue 
Their beauty might declare : 
A spring of love gushed from 
my heart, 



'The Anctenl Manner 57 

And I blessed them unaware, — |"2tt!s 
Sure my kind saint took pity 

on me, 
And I blessed them unaware. 



The selfsame moment ' could Thespeii 

begins to 



pray; 
And from my neck so free 
The Albatross fell off, and sank 
Like lead into the sea." 



break. 




PART FIVE 



T%e Rime of The Ancient Manner 



61 





PART V. 



SLEEP ! it is a 

gentle thing, 
Beloved from pole 
to pole ! 
To Mary Queen the praise be 

given ! 
She sent the gentle sleep from 

Heaven, 
That slid into my soul. 

The silly buckets on the deck, 
That had so long remained, 



By grace of 
the holy 
Mother, 



62 



the ancient 
Mariner is 
refreshed 
with rain. 



7%e Rime of 

I dreamt that they were filled 

with dew; 
And when I awoke, it rained. 



My lips were wet, my throat 

was cold, 
My garments all were dank ; 
Sure I had drunken in my 

dreams. 
And still my body drank. 



I moved, and could not feel my 

limbs : 
I was so light — almost 
I thought that I had died in 



sleep, 



And was a blessed ghost. 



The Ancient Mariner 



63 



And soon I heard a roaring 

wind : 
It did not come anear; 
But with its sound it shook the 

sails, 
That were so thin and sere. 



He heareth 
sounds and 
seeth 
strange 
sights and 
commotions 
in the sky 
and the ele- 
ment. 



The upper air burst into life ! 
And a hundred fire-flags sheen, 
To and fro they were hurried 

about ! 
And to and fro, and in and out, 
The wan stars danced between. 



And the coming wind did roar 

more loud, 
And the sails did sigh like sedge ; 



6 + 



T%e Rime of 



The bodies 
of the ship's 
crew are in- 
spired, and 
the ship 
moves on ; 



And the rain poured down from 

one black cloud; 
The moon was at its edge. 

The thick black cloud was cleft, 

and still 
The moon was at its side: 
Like waters shot from some high 

crag, 
The lightning fell with never a 

j a g> 
A river steep and wide. 

The loud wind never reached 

the ship, 
Yet now the ship moved on ! 



'Tht Ancient Mariner 



65 



Beneath the lightning and the 

moon 
The dead men gave a groan. 

They groaned, they stirred, they 

all uprose, 
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; 
It had been strange, even in a 

dream, 
To have seen those dead men 

rise. 

The helmsman steered, the ship 

moved on ; 
Yet never a breeze up blew; 
The mariners all 'gan work the 

ropes, 




66 



The Rime 9/ 



Where they were wont to do ; 
They raised their limbs like 

lifeless tools, — - 
We were a ghastly crew. 

The body of my brother's son 
Stood by me, knee to knee : 
The body and I pulled at one 

rope, 
But he said naught to me." 



But not by 
the souls of 
the men, 
nor by de- 
mons of 
earth or 
middle air, 
but by a 
blessed troop 
of angelic 
spirits, sent 
down by the 



"I fear thee, ancient Mariner ! ' 
" Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest ! 
'T was not those souls that fled 

in pain, 
Which to their corses came again, 
But a troop of spirits blest : 



The Ancient Manner 7 



For when it dawned they drop- 
ped their arms, 

And clustered round the mast; 

Sweet sounds rose slowly through 
their mouths, 

And from their bodies passed. 

Around, around, flew each sweet 

sound, 
Then darted to the sun ; 
Slowly the sounds came back 

again, 
Now mixed, now one by one. 

Sometimes a-dropping from the 

sky 
I heard the skylark sing : 



invocation 
of the 
guardian 
saint. 



68 




) 



Tie Rime of 

Sometimes all little birds that 

are, 
How they seemed to fill the 

sea and air 
With their sweet jargoning ! 

And now 't was like all instru- 
ments, 
Now like a lonely flute ; 
And now it is an angel's song, 
That makes the heavens be mute. 

It ceased; yet still the sails 

made on 
A pleasant noise till noon, 
A noise like of a hidden brook 
In the leafy month of June, 



The Ancient Manner 



69 



That to the sleeping woods all 

night 
Singeth a quiet tune. 

Till noon we quietly sailed on, 
Yet never a breeze did breathe : 
Slowly and smoothly went the 

ship, 
Moved onward from beneath. 



Under the keel nine fathom 

deep, 
From the land of mist and snow, 
The Spirit slid : and it was he 
That made the ship to go. 
The sails at noon left off their 

tune, 
And the ship stood still also. 



The lone- 
some Spirit 
from the 
South Pole 
carries on 
the ship as 
far as the 
Line, in 
obedience to 
the angelic 
troop, but 
still requir- 
eth ven- 
geance. 



7° 



T%e Rime of 



The sun right up above the 

mast, 
Had fixed her to the ocean : 
But in a minute she 'gan stir, 
With a short uneasy motion,— 
Backwards and forwards half 

her length, 
With a short uneasy motion. 

Then like a pawing horse let go, 
She made a sudden bound : 
It flung the blood into my head, 
As I fell down in a swound. 



j The Polar 

! Spirit's fql-- 

i low demons, 

the invisible 

inhabitants 



How long in that same fit I lay, 

I have not to declare ; 

But ere my living life returned, 



/ he Ancient Manner 



7 1 



I heard, and in my soul dis- 
cerned 
Two voices in the air. 

'Is it he ? ' quoth one, < Is this 

the man ? 
By him who died on cross, 
With his cruel bow he laid full low 
The harmless Albatross. 



of the ele- 
ment, take 
part in his 
wrong ; and 
two of them 
relate, one 
to the other, 
that penance 
long and 
heavy for 
the ancient 
Mariner 
hath been 
accorded to 
the Polar 
Spirit, who 
returneth 
southward. 



The Spirit who abideth by him- 
self 

In the land of mist and snow, 

He loved the bird that loved 
the man 

Who shot him with his bow/ 



7 2 



The Rime of 'The Anc»ei>t Mariner 



The other was a softer voice, 
As soft as honey-dew: 
Quoth he, < The man hath pen- 
ance done, 
And penance more will do.' ' 




PART SIX 



Tbe Rww of Tht AttCuenl Mariner 



11 




PART VI. 

FIRST VOICE. 

tell me, tell me ! 
speak again, 
Thy soft response 
renewing — 
What makes that ship drive on 

so fast ? 
What is the ocean doing ? ' 




SECOND VOICE. 

'Still as a slave before' his lord, 
The ocean hath no blast; 



78 TU Rime of 

His great bright eye most si- 
lently 
Up to the moon is cast — 



If he may know which way to 

go; 

For she guides him smooth or 

grim. 
See, brother, see ! how graciously 
She looketh down on him.' 



The Mari- 
ner hath 
been cast 
into a 
trance ; for 
the angelic 
power 
causeth the 
vessel to 
drive north- 
ward faster 
than human 
life could 
endure. 



FIRST VOICE. 



< But why drives on that ship so 

fast, 
Without or wave or wind ? ' 

SECOND VOICE. 

< The air is cut away before, 
And closes from behind. 



The Ancient Mariner 



79 



Fly, brother, fly ! more high, 

more high ! 
Or we shall be belated : 
For slow and slow that ship 

will go, 
When the Mariner's trance is 

abated/ 



I woke, and we were sailing on 

As in a gentle weather : 

'T was night, calm night, the 

moon was high; 
The dead men stood together. 



The super- 
natural mo- 
tion is re- 
tarded ; the 
Mariner 
awakes, and 
his penance 
begins 
anew. 



All stood together on the deck, 
For a charnel-dungeon fitter: 



8o 



The curse 
is finally 
expiated. 



Tht Rime of 

All fixed on me their stony eyes, 
That in the moon did glitter. 

The pang, the curse, with which 

they died, 
Had never passed away : 
I could not draw my eyes from 

theirs, 
Nor turn them up to pray. 

And now this spell was snapt : 

once more 
I viewed the ocean green, 
And looked far north, yet little 

saw 
Of what had else been seen — 



Tie Ancienl Mariner I 

Like one, that on a lonesome 

road 
Doth walk in fear and dread, 
And having once turned round, 

walks on, 
And turns no more his head ; 
Because he knows, a frightful 

fiend 
Doth close behind him tread. 



But soon there breathed a wind 

on me, 
Nor sound nor motion made : 
Its path was not upon the sea, 
In ripple or in shade. 



82 



Toe Rime of 



It raised my hair, it fanned my 

cheek 
Like a meadow-gale of spring — 
It mingled strangely with my 

fears, 
Yet it felt like a welcoming. 

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, 
Yet she sailed softly too : 
Sweetly, sweetly blew the 

breeze — 
On me alone it blew. 



And the an- 
cient Mari- 
ner behold- 
eth his 
native 
country. 



Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed 
The lighthouse top I see ? 
Is this the hill ? is this the kirk? 
Is this my own countree ? 



The Ancient Manner 



We drifted o'er the harbor-bar, 
And I with sobs did pray — 
O let me be awake, my God ! 
Or let me sleep alway. 

The harbor-bay was clear as glass, 
So smoothly it was strewn ! 
And on the bay the moonlight 

lay, 
And the shadow of the moon. 



The rock shone bright, the kirk 

no less, 
That stands above the rock : 
The moonlight steeped in si- 

lentness 
The steady weathercock. 



84 



Tot Rime of 



The angelic 
spirits leave 
the dead 
bodies. 



And appear 
in their own 
forms of 
light. 



And the bay was white with 

silent light 
Till, rising from the same, 
Full many shapes, that shadows 

were, 
In crimson colors came. 

A little distance from the prow 
Those crimson shadows were : 
I turned my eyes upon the 

deck — 
O Christ ! what saw I there ! 

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and 

flat, 
And, by the holy rood ! 
A man all light, a seraph-man, 
On every corse there stood. 



Tite Ancient Manner 


85 


This seraph-band, each waved 




his hand : 


4 


It was a heavenly sight ! 


JiL 


They stood as signals to the land, 


c "7 


Each one a lovely light; 


P 


This seraph-band, each waved 


his hand, 


1 


No voice did they impart — 




No voice ; but oh ! the silence 




sank 




Like muoic on my heart. 




But soon I heard the dash of 




oars, 




I heard the Pilot's cheer; 





86 



Tie Rime of The Ancient Manner 

My head was turned perforce 

away, 
And I saw a boat appear. 



The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, 
I heard them coming fast : 
Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a 

joy 
The dead men could not blast. 



I saw a third — I heard his voice : 
It is the Hermit good ! 
He singeth loud his godly hymns 
That he makes in the wood. 
He '11 shrieve my soul, he '11 

wash away 
The Albatross's blood." 



PART SEVEN 



Tie Rime of Tie Ancrcnt Manner 



9 1 




Hermit good 
lives in that 
wood 
Which slopes down 
to the sea. 
How loudly his sweet voice he 

rears ! 
He loves to talk with marineres 
That come from a far countree. 

He kneels at morn, and noon, 

and eve — 
He hath a cushion plump : 



The Hermit 
of the 
wood, 



9 2 T^Rim**/ 

It is the moss that wholly hides 
The rotted old oak-stump. 

The skiff-boat neared : I heard 

them talk 
< Why, this is strange, I trow ! 
Where are those lights so many 

and fair, 
That signal made but now ? ' 



Approach- 
eth the ship 
with won- 
der. 



' Strange, by my faith ! ' the 

Hermit said — 
1 And they answered not our 

cheer ! 
The planks looked warped ! and 

see those sails, 
How thin they are and sere ! 



Tbt Ancient Mariner 93 

I never saw aught like to them, 
Unless perchance it were 
Brown skeletons of leaves that 

lag 
My forest-brook along ; 
When the ivy-tod is heavy with 

snow, 
And the owlet whoops to the 

wolf below, 
That eats the she-wolf's young.' 

< Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish 

look — 
(The Pilot made reply) 

I am a-feared ' — < Push on, 

push on ! ' 

Said the Hermit cheerily. 



94 



7% Rimf *f 



The boat came closer to the 

ship, 
But I nor spake nor stirred ; 
The boat came close beneath 

the ship, 
And straight a sound was heard. 



The ship 
suddenly 
sinketh. 



Under the water it rumbled on, 
Still louder and more dread : 
It reached the ship, it split the 

bay; 
The ship went down like lead. 



The ancient 
Mariner is 
saved in the 
Pilot's boat. 



Stunned by the loud and dread- 
ful sound, 
Which sky and ocean smote, 



The Ancient Manner 



95 



Like one that hath been seven 

days drowned 
My body lay afloat; 
But swift as dreams, myself I 

found 
Within the Pilot's boat. 



Upon the whirl, where sank the 

ship, 
The boat spun round & round ; 
And all was still, save that the 

hill 
Was telling of the sound. 



:<: 



I moved my lips — the Pilot 

shrieked 
And fell down in a fit; 



9 6 


7%r Rime 9/ 




The holy Hermit raised his eyes, 




And prayed where he did sit. 




I took the oars : the Pilot's boy, 




Who now doth crazy go, 




Laughed loud and long, and 




all the while 




His eyes went to and fro. 




< Ha ! ha ! ' quoth he, i full plain 




I see, 




The Devil knows how to row.' 




And now, all in my own 




countree, 




I stood on the firm land ! 




The Hermit stepped forth from 




the boat, 




And scarcely he could stand. 



T3k Ancient Mariner 



97 



< O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy 

man ! ' 
The Hermit crossed his brow. 
6 Say quick,' quoth he, < I bid 

thee say — 
What manner of man art thou ? ' 



Forthwith this frame of mine 

was wrenched 
With a woful agony, 
Which forced me to begin my 



tal 



e; 



And then it left me free. 

Since then, at an uncertain hour, 
That agony returns : 
And till my ghastly tale is told, 
This heart within me burns. 



The ancient 
Mariner 
earnestly 
entreateth 
the Hermit 
to shrieve 
him ; and 
the penance 
of life falls 
an him. 



And ever 
and anon 
throughout 
his future 
life an ago- 
ny con- 
strained! 



9 8 



him to trav- 
el from land 
to land. 



ibe Rime of 

I pass, like night, from land to 

land ; 
I have strange power of speech; 
That moment that his face I see, 
I know the man that must hear 

me : 
To him my tale I teach. 



What loud uproar bursts from 

that door ! 
The wedding-guests are there : 
But in the garden-bower the 

bride 
And bride-maids singing are : 
And hark the little vesper bell, 
Which biddeth me to prayer ! 



TXe Ancient Manner 99 

O Wedding-Guest ! this soul 
hath been 

Alone on a wide, wide sea : 

So lonely 't was, that God him- 
self 

Scarce seemed there to be. 

O sweeter than the marriage- 
feast, 
'T is sweeter far to me, 
To walk together to the kirk 
With a goodly company ! — 

To walk together to the kirk, 
And all together pray, 
While each to his great Father 
blends, 



IOO 



T%€ Rime of 



Old men, and babes, and lov- 
ing friends, 
And youths and maidens gay ! 



And to 
teach by 
own exam- 
ple love and 
reverence to 
all things 
that God 
made and 
loveth. 



Farewell ! farewell ! but this I 

tell 
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest! 
He prayeth well, who loveth well 
Both man and bird and beast. 



He prayeth best, who loveth best 
All things both great and small ; 
For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all." 



The Mariner, whose eye is bright, 
Whose beard with age is hoar, 



T%e Ancient Mariner i o i 

Is gone: and now the Wedding- 
Guest 

Turned from the bridegroom's 
door. 

He went like one that hath 

been stunned, 
And is of sense forlorn : 
A sadder and a wiser man, 
He rose the morrow morn. 




SO here endeth the RIME OF 
THE ANCIENT MARINER, by 
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, as done 
into a book by the Roycrofters at 
the Roy croft Shop that is in East 
Aurora, Erie County, New York, 
U. S. A. Completed this 15th day 
May, Anno Christi, MDCCCXCIX 




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